deepundergroundpoetry.com

A Journey

How quaint I cared not that plume
Sealed so holy a sense of doom:
A weight I felt was the tide of death
In a sensual, delayed breath.
How could I not control
The sight where the oval planets roll
Their spheres flowing, flowing in the shadowed stream
With so harmonious a scream?

Kings and queens with searching crowns of flame
And odd, swimming species without name.
A dread winter with such sinister chill
And amber canyons where tentacular beasts spill
From rock walls of lonely sight,
Shining with something like flamingo light;
Asking if I would listen well
To the black words they did tell
As rainbow gates did shift and swell
To a dream of orange seas;
Burning sands to glass in emerald breeze
That shifted my soul as I held dear
The slowing heart grasped in fear
Of an End I could not welcome
As I viewed the world become
Colorized with the shrew
Cerulean eye's ringed view
As I fell lifeless into
A valley of myriad veils
Where all breath despondent fails
To waken the fragile spirit...
And the melody, I could hear it
Throbbing with its piping sighs
Within my weary eyes
Where voids swim around
And castles of graves surround

The drowning strands of unwanted sleep
Where my heart in sorrow did weep
As it held within its clasp
A jewel it could not fully grasp,
So pure to the bizarre quake
That begged desperate for me to wake

As a realm of shades my vision did hold
In tombs of living gold
That so strange did bury me
And in death did carry me
To shores of diamond horror
That screamed horizons forevermore,
Shining upon my dreaming grief
A blindness that did offer dark relief
From a reality that breathes despair
In the very, cold and listless air
That bears all souls to the lair
Of submarine kingdoms of iron fair

Drowning with breezes weighted, sublime
Of a realm without time
That darkly, dreadful invites
The troubled minds to such sights
Of Terror's rhythmic dawns
Where death's eternity yawns

Welcoming me to the killing shine
Of the vision that is mine
To dwell in that kingdom's blood-choked breast
In the thick shrine of ill peace's rest.
Written by MartenHoyle (Vate C. Carmen)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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